THE REFUGEE WAVE SEPARATED SISTERS SOFIA AND LENA

THE REFUGEE WAVE SEPARATED SISTERS SOFIA AND LENA

“My childhood was fine in the children’s homes, I didn’t want to go back to my parents,” said Sofia Ristovska-Gakovska.

The refugee wave separated sisters Sofia and Lena, daughters of Spiro and Rina Ristovski from the village Rula. Sofia, the older daughter, was evacuated to Romania in 1948, first to Sinaia and later to a children’s home in Tulgesh, where she remained for the next eight years. Lena, the younger daughter, fled to Poland together with her parents in 1949, after DAG was defeated in the Greek Civil War. Sofia later moved to Skopje and got married. She still lives in Skopje. Lena remained in Poland where she married a Polish man and has a family of her own.

Sofia and Lena’s childhoods were no different from those of the 28,000 refugee children that were evacuated from their birthplaces during the brutal Greek Civil War and spread all over the world. Sofia does not remember anything of how she made the long and difficult trek from her village Rula to Romania. She does not remember the long nights she had to travel on the cold and dangerous terrain or the full trains and trucks in which she and the other children were transported. She only remembers the day when the children arrived in Sinaia. This is what Sofia said, “We all had lice. We were dirty and tired from the long trip. First we had to take a group bath. I remember we were all screaming and crying. We were seeing bathrooms and showers for the first time. We were given clean clothes and food. The sick children were sent to the hospital…” Sofia was only four years old when she arrived in Romania.

Sofia continued, “We were welcomed in a good way in Romania. The Romanian Red Cross provided food and clothing for us. Life in the children’s home was well organized. Every year Santa Claus came through the dining room and gave us different presents. Our childhood there was fine. When my parents found me and I had to go with them to Poland, to be honest, I didn’t want to. I had gotten used to the children and the mother that took care of us. The entire time I felt like she was my real mother. I always called her mother. Her name was Dosta. She was from Bapchor. She lived in Chento in the same part of the city where I lived… I didn’t remember my real mother. After my parents found me they kept writing me letters and sending me pictures of them. I only knew my parents and sister from pictures.

When my parents came to see me I expected that my mother would be there. For some reason I wanted to see her first, before she saw me. Every child asks for his/her mother first. I was eleven years old then. Several of us had remained who were not yet claimed by their families. We were lined up in one of the rooms as parents came in. I wasn’t looking at the men; I only looked at the women hoping to see my mother. The moment my father came in I recognized him from the pictures. I ran to him and asked him where mother was. He looked at me, pulled me aside and asked me my name. He probably was not sure that I was his daughter. I told him my name was Sofia and he hugged me. He explained that my mother and my sister had to wait in another city. That deeply affected me. I wanted to see my mother first. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I started crying. After we left I met my mother and sister. This was the first time I saw my sister Lena…”

Sofia joined her family in Poland and lived with them for the next ten years. After that she moved to Skopje and got married. This is what Sofia said about her accidental meeting with her “mother” who looked after her in the children’s home in Tulgesh, “Back in 1967, while shopping in a store in the ‘Slavia’ market, I saw a woman who looked like ‘mother Dosta’ from the children’s home in Tulgesh. I wondered if that was her. She regularly shopped in this store. I hesitated for several days before I got up the courage to speak to her. When I finally did I asked her if she was ‘mother Dosta’. She immediately recognized me, started hugging me and cried for a long time. After that we didn’t see each other for eleven years…”

Sofia continued, “I keep in touch with her, her daughter and son with whom I lived in the same children’s home. I could never forget

the good days. I have a wish to visit Tulgesh, again and see the place where I spent my childhood. I don’t have any relatives in Romania so I don’t know how to go about it. I had many friends but all of them went to different places in the world, some returned to Greece, some went to Australia and others to America. That was our destiny… the destiny of the refugee children from the Aegean part of Macedonia. Unfortunately, of all my friends, I don’t have anyone here in Macedonia…”

Lena’s (Sofia’s sister) childhood was a little less traumatic and easier because she was with her parents. While her parents worked at the kolkhozes, little Lena, then two years old, was placed in a refugee children’s home together with Greek children. She says that in those years she was taught to speak only Greek and was persuaded to believe that she was Greek. One day when her parents took her home, she did not speak Macedonian. Her father got angry and decided not to send her back to the children’s home. This is what Lena said, “My father Spiro was a great Macedonian and very angry that I, his daughter, didn’t know my native language, which my grandparents spoke. This is what he said to me, ‘We are Macedonians, not Greeks, and if my daughter Lena cannot learn Macedonian then I’m sending you to a Polish school’…”

Lena continued, “Everyone spoke Macedonian at home. My uncle (my father’s brother) who lived in Skopje regularly sent me records of songs from which I have learned the Macedonian language and Macedonian songs. That way I learned the Macedonian language and I forgot the Greek language. I live in Poland now, but my heart and soul are in Macedonia. I use every opportunity to visit Macedonia. I have only one Macedonian book in my library, its title is ‘Macedonian Bloody Wedding,’ which I love because in a way it symbolizes the tragedy of the Macedonian people…”

While Lena remained in Poland and married a Polish man, Sofia and Lena’s parents moved to Macedonia in 1977. After finishing her education in economics, Lena worked for a while and then went back and graduated from law school. She gave birth to one child, a son whom she named Giorgi, a Macedonian name. Later when she had a grandson they gave him two names, Risek, a Polish name, and Zoran, a Macedonian name. Lena is very much satisfied living in

Poland and, from her own experience, has found the Poles to be very kind people.

Sofia and Lena visit each other often. If Sofia does not go to Poland then Lena goes to Macedonia. Last year Lena was at her sister’s place for four months. Lena said this year she will come to Skopje to participate in the child refugee gathering.

Lena and Sofia have been to their village Rula only once. That was five years ago. They wanted to see the place where they were born. There they found their aunt Kalina. When she saw them she immediately recognized Lena. She hugged her and said, “You look like your mother Rina.”

Although she spent her entire life in Poland, Lena did not forget the Macedonian language. She said when they crossed the Macedonian-Greek border on their way to Rula they met two older people walking on the road and offered them a ride in their car. Lena was very happy to hear that they too spoke the same language that her parents spoke. This is what Lena said, “I was happy to hear that the older people in our villages still speak the Macedonian language among themselves. I was also sad to find out that the young people don’t speak much Macedonian. They understand a little and if you ask them a question they will answer you in Greek…”

Toso, Sofia’s husband, passed away five years ago. He too was a child refugee. He was born in German and belonged to the Gakovtsi family. His father Serafim was killed in a battle in 1949. His mother Germania fled Greece and went to Macedonia. Serafim and Germania’s five children grew up in various children’s homes. Toso was in Romania and in Poland, and the others were in children’s homes all across Yugoslavia. Germania later brought all her children to Skopje. In 1958, her husband Toso moved to Macedonia when he was 23 years old. His brother, waiting for him at the train station, had a picture of him in his hand because he didn’t know what he looked like. Germania passed away in 1979 at the Trnovo meeting where the refugee children had gathered. Her weak heart could not stand the excitement generated by the people close to her, whom she had not seen for a long time.